


You Shook Me: A Destiel One-Shot

by 1stAmndmntGirl



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, One-Shot, Sex, Slash, Suicide, m/m - Freeform, what else do I put here?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1stAmndmntGirl/pseuds/1stAmndmntGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken Dean contemplates his losses, and then Castiel arrives to prove to him that he's not lost as much as he expected, but has the power to gain much more if only he would stop being so stubborn and accept the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Shook Me: A Destiel One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I've written since the beginning of fall semester, so forgive me if it's choppy. I also wrote the beginning sober and the rest after I began celebrating my semester's 4.0, so my mood changed a bit somewhere around the middle as my bottle of wine mysteriously emptied. I don't own the characters (obviously). Feedback is quite appreciated, as I'll write more if I have an actual audience.

            Dean Winchester was drunk. No, drunk wasn’t the right word. Hammered. Shithoused. Shitfaced. Blasted. Three sheets to the wind. Wasted. Obliterated. Properly smashed. Damn near FUBAR.

            The picture lay somewhat-forgotten on the table, its edges faded and the creases so pronounced that it was evident the owner had folded and unfolded it hundreds, if not thousands, of times. The creases weren’t even because the owner had taken special care to fold it so the faces in the picture remained untouched, other than the countless greasy and bloody smears left by a thumb that had a tendency to trace specific details of the photo. Although the picture had been carefully wiped clean, the evidence remained on the long, loose curl of hair that lay across her collarbone. The soft curve of her lower lip. The mussed bangs of the little boy, so familiar enough that even the graze of a thumb brought back vivid memories. A woman and her son, so cherished that they had to be eradicated from his life.

            Slugging back another shot of cheap Jim Beam, Dean sighed, praying for someone to explain to him why his life had to be this way. Why he was forced into this job. Why he had to leave that woman and their son behind with not a memory of him to tide them over until they met in the next life.

            “Hello Dean.” Castiel spoke from behind him.

            Not even surprised by the sudden entrance, Dean tipped the bottle to his lips in response. The warm fluid turned hot in his mouth as the bubble of air broke free to the surface, and he set the glass down on the table once more, unsure whether it was anger or alcohol that singed his veins.

            Castiel ignored the man’s reaction and waited patiently, as he always did.

            “Cas, tell me something,” Dean began, considering his words drunkenly. He mulled them over as the angel waited, letting the bittersweet memories taint him and force the fire in his belly to come up in the form of words.

            Without waiting for response, he stood, turned, and launched into a tirade. “Why is it that I have to do all of this? Why did I have to sacrifice Lisa and Ben to put up with all this shit? Haven’t I done enough? I was gonna ask her to marry me, Cas. I had raised Ben as my own, teaching him to be a man. While I’m glad Sam’s safe—and trust me man, I am—why is it that I’m the only one who lost something?”

            His shout reverberated through the cheap motel, ringing vital and harsh in the stale air tinged with old sweat, forgotten affairs, and weary travels.

            Castiel’s aged blue eyes narrowed, and his dry lips pursed with frustration. “Do you really think you are the only one who has sacrificed?” His tone was pitched low, and Dean had to focus to hear his calm words.

            The hunter rolled his eyes at Castiel, knowing he was going to hear the usual I-gave-everything-for-you speech that Cas always gave him. “You know what Cas? All you’ve ever told me is that you rebelled. Never once have you given me a goddamn good explanation of what that means or what it entailed, so until you’re willing to part with that bit of information, shut your damn cakehole and let me drink.”

            Before he could even pick up the bottle, Castiel was before him, eyes burning like cerulean fire. Dean’s shirt was fisted in his friend’s hand, and they were closer than even Castiel’s lack of personal space had ever allowed them to be.

            The usually calm angel stared straight into Dean Winchester’s emerald eyes and snarled, “Do you really want to know what I lost? Do you want to understand what I’ve been burdened with since I came into contact with you? Since I rescued you from hell? Do you want to know what kind of a menace you are?”

            Dean, emboldened by both anger and the bottle, spat back, “Yeah, I do. Tell me Cas, how dark has your little world gotten since you came in and ruined my goddamn life?”

            The angel’s eyes flashed with something otherworldly, and Dean shut his eyes, remembering Pamela’s sudden blindness after staring at Castiel’s true form. When the brightness faded, Dean opened his eyes to glare, but was cut short by Castiel’s words.

            “I’ve fallen for you, Dean. I fell from Heaven and lost my wings. When my Father returned my life to me after I took in the Leviathan, he returned it at a cost, and I lost much of what I had. I am more human than angel, and I am hunted because of it.

            “I have killed many that I love, and not always involuntarily. I killed thousands of my siblings. I killed one of my dearest friends, Balthazar. I killed Samandriel, who wanted nothing more than to follow me on the path of righteousness. I killed thousands of people because they had betrayed my Father.

            “Most of all, Dean, I have fallen for you. As punishment for my sins, my Father equipped me with human emotions, and long ago I lost sight of the line between friendship and love. No matter what I try to do to convey to you this issue, you push me, press me, and call for me. I have abandoned everything to assist you, and you use me like a toy. You said we were family, but family does not do this.”

            Dean was silent for once, his jaw hanging slack at the implication of Castiel’s words.

            Castiel’s blue eyes begged Dean to see the truth in his words as he spoke, and his hand not gripping Dean’s collar rose to gently grasp his cheek. “I have been given wants and needs. I have urges and desires I have never before known. My vessel has physical reactions that both frighten me and make me feel things I have never felt. All in response to you.”

            Dry lips pressed to Dean’s own, and he had had enough of this for one night. For one lifetime. He shoved Castiel away, unable to put into words what he felt.

            Castiel stumbled back, his small smile cynical and hurt. “Dean, if you knew how many times I pictured that reaction and tried to kill myself because of it, you would be surprised. Why do you think I am never around? I would rather die than live with this rejection.”

            “Cas, I’m not gay.” Dean uttered.

            Castiel’s cerulean gaze cut into him. “Neither am I. I am an angel of the Lord, and my Father has seen it fitting punishment for me to love a man who could and would never love me back.”

            Those words stung Dean like small razorblades over his body. He loved Castiel, but like a brother. A friend. How did his drunken rant get so turned around?

            Castiel stared at him with that same broken smile. “A brother? A friend? You call on me when you need me. You pray to me. You dream of me. You cared for me when I was drunk, and you protected me from Famine. You called me part of Team Free Will. If you do not love me, why would you continue to taunt me if not to use me for your own gain.”

            “I—we don’t use you, Cas.”

            Castiel being who he was, just stared into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, if you did not use me, you would treat me as the family you say I am. And if I am to understand human mating rituals, you would treat me as your lover.”

            What the fuck. Dean had no idea of how to react to this. He tried to look away, but his gaze was held. He tried to move his body, but his feet were planted.

            “Human mating rituals? What the hell are you talking about?”

            Cas tried on an incredulous expression that made Dean feel both uncomfortable and pitying. If Cas indeed had the full range of emotion he said he did, and while his vessel Jimmy Novak may have conquered that face, Cas had yet to learn it, the struggle showing in the unusual twitch of facial muscles. It was almost as if watching someone painfully fake a smile.

            “Calling me into your bedroom? Staring at me like you do? Giving me a nickname? Caring for me when I am injured? Protecting me? Dean, if these are not human mating rituals, then what are they, and why are you the only one to push so far for me?”

            Dean slumped against the wall and ran a hand through his short hair. “Cas, I don’t know what you’ve seen, but it’s not like that. Man, we’re family.”

            Castiel flickered his eyes toward the room’s extra bed where Sam would sleep when he came back from his run with Bobby. Dean had opted out for some alone time, although apparently he wasn’t going to get anything other than a splash in the face with cold reality from Cas. 

            Castiel motioned towards the bed and said in his gravelly voice, “Dean, the only people you have ever protected like me are Sam, Bobby, and your father. You certainly care for all of them, but you have never looked at them as you do me. As if you are longing for something.”

            “Don’t you dare forget Lisa and Ben!” Dean snapped.

            His angel just looked at him. “Dean, while you protected and took care of them, you never went to the lengths you continue to go for me.”

            Trying to refute that, Dean’s mind frantically sought to find an example, but the angel was right, and it made him livid. “You know what Cas? You can fuck off! How dare you pull that shit after all we’ve been through!”

            “That is my point, Dean.” Castiel muttered so quietly that Dean almost missed it.

            Dean just allowed his legs to give and he fell to the ground, hoping this was all a nightmare. His legs splayed as his boots skimmed the top of the filthy carpeting, and his head bounced off the wall.

            Castiel looked at the table, where sat the bottle of liquid courage and stupidity, Dean’s gun, Sam’s laptop, and the photo that started this whole mess.

            “Maybe this time, it’ll work. Maybe all I had to do was tell you.” He muttered as he eyed Dean, and then the table. Castiel picked up the gun, and with just enough knowledge of it to be dangerous, he pointed it at his temple and pulled the trigger before Dean could react.

            The blast was deafening in the small room, and Dean’s lungs stopped as he stared wide-eyed at the body of his best friend. Castiel had fallen forward, crumpling to his knees before the weight of his upper body tipped him onto the cheap carpeting riddled with old stains and clumps of angel hair, flesh, blood, bone, and brain. His finger had relaxed from the trigger, so it didn’t go off again when the gun fell to the ground, still loosely encased in his hand.

            Cas’s face—what was left of it—scraped the old brown carpet as his body completed its fall. Dean knew that even without looking his expression was pained and vaguely confused.

            His chest burned like fire, reminding him to breathe. Sucking in a deep breath, Dean’s lungs reluctantly began to work as he looked down and observed the gory mess of his friend on his favorite flannel shirt and jeans. His heart skittered and his breathing turned uneven and harsh.

            “Cas?” he breathed, his chest hitching as he tried to remain calm. Did Castiel really just kill himself because Dean didn’t love him?

            Clumsily working his way to his knees, Dean lifted Castiel’s head up to make sure the angel was dead, and yeah, can’t get much deader than that.

            Swearing, Dean let go of Cas’s head and fell back on his ass, gasping for air and a way to comprehend what just happened. He cupped his face in his hands so the empty room and what was left of Cas wouldn’t see his shame. His mind raced as he tried to think of what to do or how to rationalize it, but all he came up with was the guilt that punched a hole in his belly.

            Sitting, sprawled out against the wall, Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek. More blood on his hands; what else was new? Was it really that difficult to admit he cared for Castiel? Was it really that hard to go the extra mile for the guy who saved him from Hell?

            A grunt pulled his attention away from his pity party, and he looked up suddenly. Castiel was pulling himself into a sitting position, no longer covered in blood or bits of bone and matter. The entire area around them was free of any evidence an angel had committed suicide just a few minutes ago. A resigned expression weighed upon his face.

            “Cas! You’re alive!” Dean gaped.

            The angel looked at him and smiled tightly. “Apparently, even that did not work.”

            Dean swung hard, his fist connecting with Castiel’s jaw. His head spun and he fell backwards, shocked.

            Stumbling to his feet, the hunter stood above the angel and shouted, “Damnit Cas, what the hell was that?”

            Feeling his jaw, those blue eyes looked up as their owner said hollowly, “I told you, Dean: I would rather die than live with your rejection. I was hoping that it would work this time.”

            Unable to comprehend it, Dean just looked at his friend. “Cas, I don’t know what to say.”

            Standing and brushing himself off, Castiel looked up at Dean. “This is goodbye, then. Maybe if I can find one of my siblings, they can help me.”

            Dean clutched at the tan trench coat he had grown to know so well. “Cas, stop.”

            The angel turned those deep blue eyes to meet those green. “Dean, I am serious. If you do not and will not love me, I must convince my father to let me die. I cannot live in this world where you think of me as nothing.”

            “Those are my only options? Turn gay or let you kill yourself?”

            Cas smiled sadly. “No, I cannot make you do anything, nor will I. If I were to force you to love me, it would be a moot point.”

            Pondering for a moment, Dean replied, “Hold on.”

            Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the table, Dean tipped it down his throat. Chugging until he ran out of air, he almost drained the half-full bottle before he set it back down. Castiel watched him as the man opposite took a step closer, took a deep breath, and planted his lips messily on Castiel’s.

            Lips soft and full against his own, Castiel leaned into the kiss. The hunter teased his tongue along the angel’s lips, but didn’t dare to do more. His hand snaked up into that messy black hair and his fingers knotted in it, a gesture Castiel had wished for a thousand times if he’d wished it once.

            Pressing his hips forward, Dean backed Castiel to the nearest wall, where he then chose to lean into him. Their lower bodies met, and they simultaneously ground against one another in response to their growing erections. Castiel moaned against Dean’s mouth, but pushed him back suddenly, leaving Dean to almost fall on his ass. Instead, Dean overbalanced and fell forward, forced to brace himself on the smaller man’s chest.

            “What? I thought you wanted this.” Dean protested, his voice thick with confusion and surprised arousal.

            Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Not if you have to get drunk to do it. If you mean this, you have to be sober.”

            Sighing heavily, Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Fine. Sober me up, Scotty.”

            “My name isn’t Scotty.” Castiel reminded, as if Dean was feeble. Before he could whip out a witty comeback though, Cas laid his hand upon Dean’s forehead and cleared his body of the alcohol with some heavenly force.

            Dean no longer had a drunkenly confident grin and half a hard-on, but a nervous half-smile and a wilting lower half. Eyes once heavy-lidded were now wide and bright. Clarity had taken hold of the hunter and forced him to confront the situation at hand. The room wasn’t spinning, and he could feel the heat from Cas, as he was only a few inches away.

            “Now do you mean it, Dean?” Castiel asked hesitantly, his voice pitched low.

            “Cas, you’re my best friend, and if I’ve gotta do this to prove to you that we need you—that I need you, then yeah, I mean it.”

            He thrusted his pelvis against the other man’s and pushed him back into the wall.

            “I said ‘love’, not ‘need’.” Castiel clarified, annoyed.

            His smile still unsettled, Dean shrugged. “That’s what ‘love’ is to me. It means I need you, and you need me. ‘Love’ not a word I feel comfortable using when not referencing pie.”

            “Oh.”

            Dean jerkily pressed his lips again to Castiel’s, not exactly shy, but certainly less confident with how to roll than he was a bottle of Jim ago.

            The kiss was gentle and full of question. Neither knew how to proceed past the first peck, and Castiel was staring at Dean with his eyes open the whole time.

            Pulling back, Dean said, “Man, you gotta close your eyes when you kiss me. Hell, when you kiss anyone.”

            “Why?” he asked.

            Sighing, Dean realized how much work this was going to be. “Because it’s weird. Just go with me on this.”

            Before he could ask if Cas understood, the angel closed his eyes, leaned forward, and smashed his mouth to Dean’s, teeth clicking from the force. He pushed his backwards, barely catching him from falling. Dean didn’t argue, though, because he came at Castiel just as hard, shoving him back against the wall. His lips molded against his friend’s and he tilted his head, searching for a better angle. He had never kissed a guy before, so he was going to act like he would if Castiel were a woman.

            “But I am not a female.” Castiel reminded Dean.

            “Dude, do I need to wear a foil hat?”

            Looking him up and down as if contemplating that fashion move, Castiel went to reply, but Dean cut him off. “I mean, stop reading my mind.”

            “But I am a wavelength of celestial intent in a human vessel. I am not a woman.” he pressed.

            Dean sighed again. “I’ve never been with a guy before, okay? So this is awkward enough without you interrupting me every two seconds or reading my mind. I’m trying to figure this out as I go.”

            “I know how.”

            Dean counted to five before he answered that. “Cas, you’re a virgin. How do you know how gay sex works?”

            “I watched a video on the computer.”

            Dean’s eyebrows furrowed. “That was you? You watched that gay porno? I was blaming it on Sam!”

            “It was me.”

            Scoffing, Dean brushed a hand through his hair. “Well then you owe me twenty bucks. That wasn’t a free video.”

            Castiel looked at Dean blankly, and the hunter sighed. “Never mind. Let’s just try this again. And stay out of my head!”

            Trying to get over what they were doing and the fact that Castiel—the angel Castiel—had watched an hour-long video of hardcore S&M gay porn, Dean cupped said angel’s jaw in his hand and kissed him not on the mouth, but on the side of his lips, making a trail down Castiel’s jaw and neck.

            Apparently sensitive, Cas’s breath hitched and his body shook when Dean reached the spot an inch below his ear, his hands balling up and loosening at his sides. Dean slid off that tan coat before he grabbed those hands and placed them on his hips.

            Licking and nipping at that same spot until Castiel audibly groaned, Dean inwardly chuckled and moved on to the other side, finding yet another happy spot. Kissing a neck with a ten o’clock shadow was weird, and Castiel’s perma-bristles scraped Dean’s own unshaven face red and raw.

            Castiel’s hands were clutching and grasping at Dean’s waist and hips, unable to find purchase with a layer of denim and two shirts in his way. He pushed at Dean’s red flannel eagerly, and Dean smiled against the angel’s neck as he shrugged out of it.

            Dean’s hands deftly removed Castiel’s suit jacket and started working on the white button-up shirt beneath it and the tie, his teeth now nipping at Castiel’s earlobe, rolling the soft flesh between his teeth gently. The angel’s knees trembled, and Dean pulled back to mutter, “Don’t lock your legs.”

            That must've worked, because Castiel didn’t almost fall over when Dean moved to the other ear and laved the shell with his tongue.

            As Dean worked his way down Castiel’s ear to his collarbone, Dean got the button-up unbuttoned and pushed it off, his calloused hands scraping Castiel’s soft skin. He ripped the tie off over his head, unwilling to mess with the knot. He shivered from the contact Castiel finally made by pulling up the hem of his shirt, the angel’s warm hands tracing the sharp curves of his hipbones right under his jeans.

            This was way hotter than Dean had expected, and he thanked whatever was out there that this wasn’t weird and awkward. Coming back up, he kissed Castiel hard, his pants as uncomfortably tight as Castiel’s looked.

            Cas panted against Dean’s mouth and pulled him tighter with one hand, the other unsuccessfully trying to rip off Dean’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

            “Whoa, this shirt is almost as old as you. Gentle with it, man.” Dean grumbled as he acquiesced and pulled the damn thing over his head himself, leaving his chest bare against Castiel’s. This action didn’t stop Cas from grinding against Dean’s hips shamelessly, lacking a solid rhythm.

            He brought his hands to Castiel’s chest, feeling the sparse chest hair and running his fingers over to his nipples. Apparently, that was yet another spot of Cas’, because he threw his head back so hard he dented the wall, a long, low moan coming from his lips. Dean had barely done more than scrape his nails over the tips, so this was going to be interesting.

            Castiel brought his hands up from his sides and wrapped one in Dean’s short hair, the other around Dean’s lower back, pulling him tighter. Castiel’s erection was pulsing against his pants, and he felt a tightening in his lower belly. Legs quivering, he gasped for air as Dean continued to play with his chest, now using his teeth and grinding on the tips like he had his earlobe.

            Noticing Cas was unnaturally vocal, Dean pulled back and looked up at the angel, his forehead lightly grazed with sweat and his eyes unfocused. “Are you about to come already?” Dean asked, confused.

            “Huh?” Castiel eloquently replied.

            Chuckling to himself, Dean shook his head. “You are. Shit, I forgot you were a virgin. Uh, hold on a second.”

            Walking over to his duffle, Dean went searching, throwing clothes all over the place. Finally, he found a little shaving kit, complete with half a box of condoms and a steel ring that looked almost twice the size of a half dollar. He grabbed out the ring before dropping the kit and the condoms back in his bag.

            Dean ran his eyes over a panting Castiel with beard burn on his chest and kiss-swollen lips, wondering how this was even happening. Why it was even happening. Why he was enjoying it.

            Without a word, he dropped to his knees before Cas and unzipped his pants. The angel looked down at him, puzzled, before he saw the ring and the idea clicked. “That was in the video, but the one the actors used had—“

            “I’m sure it had a lot of things this doesn’t. This is a basic cock ring, and I don’t even know if this’ll fit you.” Dean really had no desire to know exactly what happened in Castiel’s new favorite movie.

            Dean pushed down Castiel’s slacks, curious as to why a good ol’ church boy like Jimmy Novak didn’t wear anything under his pants, especially when he had something like this dangling between his legs. Castiel was at least a good eight inches, and the thickness was similar to Dean’s, even as it lay half-erect against his thigh.

            Castiel leaned on Dean’s shoulders as Dean took off his shoes, socks, and slacks, throwing them somewhere on the other side of the room, or two feet away. He wasn’t sure, and distances didn’t really matter right now.

            Awkwardly taking the angel’s length in hand, Dean pumped it a few times like he liked. Rubbing the pad of his thumb along the underside and right under the head, the friction against the smooth flesh felt kinda hot. And the unholy noises Cas was making sure egged him on, the short pants and the fingers in his hair an indication that not only was he not fucking this up, but he was doing pretty damn well.

            Feeling cocky, Dean decided to try something new. He moved his hand further down the shaft and brought his lips to the tip, opening his mouth as he took it. Teeth scraping along the top and bottom, he swallowed down almost half before he gagged. He pulled back, eyes watering, and stuck to the head. No wonder so few women deep-throated him.

            Sucking in hard, he traced the large vein on the side with his tongue, applying a good amount of pressure. He had one hand bracing himself on Castiel’s sharp hipbone, and the other at the base, squeezing with his thumb and index finger as he used the others to massage the velvety flesh. Short black curls sprang up around his digits as his hand moved, light and silken to the touch, like the mat of hair on his scalp.

            It took him a second, but he finally realized over the blood rushing through his ears that Castiel was talking, although it was pretty nonsensical.

            “Dean—oh—please—right there, oh yes—I—oh—don’t—oh Dean,” he moaned, thrashing under Dean’s hold. His head was bowed, his eyes glassy, and his hips were bucking. Honestly, Dean had never felt so powerful, or appreciated.

            Once Cas was rock hard, Dean bobbed on his member again, getting it good and wet before he slid on the cock ring. It was tight, but it rolled all the way back and stayed.

            Castiel was almost overwhelmed by the new sensations, and he pulled Dean up to thank him with an enthusiastic kiss, not caring that Dean tasted like Cas.

            Dean kissed him right back, his tongue tangling with that of the angel’s. Feeling overdressed, he unbutton his jeans and started to work on the zipper before Castiel took over, fumbling for a second before understanding that in order for it to unzip, the zipper head itself had to go down, not up. Once he got them undone, he shoved Dean away, and spun him so he was smack against the wall. Castiel pulled Dean’s jeans down, and then along with Dean’s boots and socks, he threw them across the room, leaving the hunter in a pair of tight, black boxer briefs and an uncharacteristic blush.

            “Dude, why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked as Castiel’s eyes roamed him hungrily.

            “I have wanted this for some time.” the angel admitted as he slowly peeled away the undergarment and admired the thick nine or so inches Dean had to offer. Standing almost completely horizontal and surrounded by dark brown curls, this was what Castiel had desired more than anything since these feelings had come to him.

            Without pushing the boxer briefs past Dean’s muscular mid-thighs, Castiel picked it up and held its weight in his hand, trying to decide what to do with it. He considered putting it in his mouth, but he thought it considerate to ask Dean if he had a different idea, specifically one from the video he watched.

            “Do you like long, thin metal rods inserted into your penis?”

            Dean, who had previously been humming with pleasure from the sensation of Castiel’s hand squeezing and feeling his length, popped his eyes open and replied as casually and calmly as he could muster in a state of fear and revulsion, “Uh, no. Castiel, forget basically everything that was in that video. We’re not doing any of it.”

            “Oh, okay.” the angel replied.

            Castiel sat there for a moment, and Dean felt he had taken the advice a bit too literally. “Cas, if you want, you can suck my dick.”

            “But that was in the—“

            Dean wanted to roll his eyes. “Blowjobs are okay, Cas.”

            Without replying, Castiel wrapped his lips around Dean and fully engulfed him, sucking so hard Dean’s knees wobbled and his eyes literally crossed. Counting to ten in English and Latin, he tried to withstand the power Cas was exerting, and failing miserably.

            Then Castiel started humming, the vibration starting at the most sensitive part of his length and building. Dean, who had been just fine a minute before, was about to come like an inexperienced kid, and he knew he had to stop.

            “Oh fuck, fuck! Cas, stop!” he cursed, pushing Castiel off, sending him sprawling.

            The angel’s expression was one of hurt. “What did I do?”

            Gasping, Dean tried to bring himself back from the brink. “Cas, that was the most intense head I’ve ever had, and you were on me for like, ten seconds. It was too much.”

            “So, it was bad?”

            Shaking his head, he helped Castiel off the ground. “No, it was too good. Jimmy Novak must’ve been the world’s best blow, because I’ve never met anyone who could do that. “

            They stood face to face, and Castiel pulled Dean in for a kiss. Dean kissed him back fiercely, their erections rubbing together, the friction perfect.

            Their lips were melded, working in tandem as their hands skittered across one another’s bodies. Dean grasped Castiel’s ass and pulled him tight, hiking Cas up and locking his legs behind him. The angel’s hands scraped along his hunter’s back, the nails dragging and etching new patterns in the skin without thought.

            Dean was one to please his partners (usually female, but still), so he asked breathlessly, “What do you want?”

            Without even a second’s hesitation, Cas replied into his mouth, “To be inside you.”

            Well that was unexpected, Dean thought. Mutual handjobs? Probably. Some kind of sixty-nine? Maybe. But actual penetration? Not on the agenda.

            Looking away, he tried to figure out what to say, but Castiel anticipated his words. “If you do not want to, we do not have to.” He put his legs down, feet touching the ground.

            Because it felt like a challenge, it made up Dean’s mind. “Shut up. I don’t think I have lube, but lotion will work.” He rifled through his bag again and came up with a small bottle of hand lotion used for more solo endeavors.

            He had poured a good amount in his hand before he remembered that Cas might want to wear a condom. “Uh, Cas. Do you want to wear a condom? I don’t know if Jimmy was clean, but I am, so—“

            “My presence purifies my vessel, so he is always clean. Do you mean illnesses? I do not have any, and you cannot give me any.”

            Raising one eyebrow, Dean rolled the cock ring off Cas and put it on himself, instead. He didn’t know how this was going to go, but somehow, he was so turned on he couldn’t see straight, and he refused to blow before Castiel.

            Using the hand full of lotion, he lubed up Castiel’s dick, coating every thick inch of it. Man, this was going to hurt.

            Taking a deep breath, handed Cas the bottle of lotion and got on the bed, his ass in the air and his face flaming. He felt the bed dip behind him, and Cas was still, contemplating. Before Dean could ask him if he was going to knit a sweater or fuck him senseless, Cas poured some of the lotion in his hand, set the bottle down and asked, “What do I do?”

            “Get your fingers all lubed up, and one by one, start fucking me with them, I guess. I don’t know, I’ve never done this with a guy.”

            Dean felt Cas open him up with one finger, his digit too big to be where it was. Too male to be where it was.

            Trying not to hiss, he relaxed his muscles, only to tense up as soon as Cas moved. This wasn’t going to be easy unless he was distracted, and there was only one thing to distract him right now: Cas.

            “While you do that, you should jerk me off.” he suggested tightly.

            Castiel brought his hand around to Dean’s front, and he found his length. He awkwardly pulled on it, but even that was enough to send Dean bucking, his body moving back towards the angel’s prying finger—no, make that fingers, as there were now two.

            For some reason, he was so much more sensitive tonight than he’d ever been. Maybe he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (two weeks), but this was ridiculous. What was pushing him over the edge?

            “When angels find their true mate, the pleasure is heightened for both of them. It’s how they know that they’ve found their mate.” Cas suddenly rasped, answering Dean’s question without hesitation.

            Wincing and writhing, Dean didn’t know how to react other than, “Mate?”

            He could hear Castiel nodding. “Yes, mate. I have never heard of this happening when the mate is human, as it’s forbidden, but I knew many angels who sought their true mate for the specific purpose of finding the pleasure within their union.”

            Dean didn’t know what to say to that, and Cas had added another finger, slowly scissoring them and exploring a part of Dean he thought would never be “explored”, especially by a dude. At the same time, he was twisting his hand around his dick in a way that made Dean want to beg for more. Literally beg.

            Unable to take it, he said, “Give it to me. Now.”

            Castiel’s hands were taken from him too quickly to truly mourn, but the pressing weight against his ass certainly was frightening. Cas lined it up and shoved it home without a warning, and Dean screamed silently, his angel more than able to sense his agony.

            Starting to pull out, Castiel asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

            “Ju—just stay there for a second,” he panted. Crushing his face into the mattress, he tried not to move or let him know how much it pained him.

            “Dean, are you okay?” Castiel’s throaty voice inquired.

            Refusing to answer, Dean inhaled and exhaled slowly, wincing as a shudder racked his body.  It was a tight fit—too tight. He was too full, and he was afraid of what he was going to do. Of what was going to happen.

            Castiel was still as he waited. “Dean, do you want me to stop?”

            Knowing this was about more than pride; it was for Castiel and to prove to him that they did care for him, that he cared for him, Dean shook his head slowly.

            “Gotta, gotta give me a minute.” He wheezed.

            Castiel was perfectly still, patiently waiting for Dean to adjust.

            Pain like fire ripped through him when Dean tried to lean back into Cas, and the angel put a hand on Dean’s lower back, a soft warmth coming from his palm. The pain was still there, but lessened, and Dean was able to breathe.

            “Memo for next time: buy actual lube.” Dean muttered, catching his breath slowly.

            His breath hitching, Castiel asked, “You want to do this again?”

            Surprisingly enough, even with the pain and discomfort he felt, it was still good, and he was still insanely turned on. Harder than he could ever remember being, he nodded slowly.

            “I’m glad.” Castiel replied, his voice thick.

            Finally ready, Dean pushed back until he had taken all of Cas. “You’re good. Just start off slow, okay?”

            To that Cas listened perfectly, slowly rocking back and forth into Dean, his eyes closed like Dean told him. He kept one hand on Dean’s lower back, and the other braced his hip. He pulled out until just the tip was hidden, and then he slid back in easily, his pelvic bone meeting Dean’s ass.

            Dean moaned deep in his throat as Castiel brushed against his spot, and his back arched into the angel’s touch. “Yeah, Cas. Damn.” he growled as Castiel bumped into him harder.

        “Dean, oh—Dean.” Castiel moaned.

            Pushing back, Dean groaned. “Harder Cas, harder.”

            Complying, Cas dropped the hand from Dean’s hip and curled his fingers in his hair, yanking his head back and exposing his neck. Dean whimpered as the angel adjusted his grip and held on tighter. The hand on his lower back felt heavy, and his dick untouched. If Cas even brushed it, he might blow, even with the cock ring. This was the hottest sex he’d ever had.

            Castiel swiveled his hip and hit something inside Dean that made his knees shake. “Oh fuck, do that again. Harder, Cas.”

            Doing as he was told, Castiel swiveled again and slammed into Dean, forcing out words that weren’t actually words, but syllables, oaths, and half-uttered curses.

            Dean braced himself on his elbows and held on, pushed beyond what he had ever been taught to expect. He clawed at the cheap bedding and gasped, a light sheen of sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. His feet pedaled, and he only got fabric burn for his trouble.

            Cas pistoned faster and harder, unable to control himself anymore. He yanked Dean’s hair so hard a few strands came out in his hand, and Dean yelped. Their skin slapped together, muscle meeting muscle as they fought to climb to the top.

            “Dean, I need you. Dean!” he cried out.

            Dean heard just what those words meant. He knew that Cas might have said something different, had Dean not explained what “need” meant to him. He knew just how powerful those words were, and he subliminally knew that even if he could never say it aloud or admit the truth to anyone (even Sammy), he needed Castiel as much as Cas needed him. Maybe not in exactly the same way yet, but it might happen someday.

            Dean’s calves burned and cramped, the agony aiding his high. He’d never been such an active bottom with a woman. He felt Cas muttering and shouting between his shoulder blades, and he was vaguely aware he was speaking, too. His words were garbled, as every third syllable or so led to Castiel pumping into his nirvana spot. He saw stars and cursed in three languages, at least. He pushed back against Castiel with every thrust, and was rewarded with the smack of hard flesh on flesh.

            A heated coil had taken up residence in his lower belly, and he couldn’t hold back much longer. “Come, Cas. Come. I need you to come.” he pleaded.

            “Come?” Castiel asked his hunter.

            “Fi—finish. Let g—go. Please C—Castiel, come. I n—need you.” Dean whimpered.

            Castiel didn’t know exactly what Dean meant, but his body did. One more plunge and he was gone, pumping recklessly into his lover so hard his hips would bruise and the bed left a permanent indent in the wall. He felt something hot spill out of him and into Dean, and he shook with the force of it. “Dean!” he yelled.

            Dean, cock ring or no cock ring, felt himself come all over his chest and the sheet so hard he couldn’t breathe. His body bucked and quivered as he shouted out his release in the form of Castiel’s nickname.

            Slumping to the bed like a boneless puddle of skin, Dean gasped for air like a dying fish, his entire body as sore as going thirteen rounds with a demon.

            Castiel’s body, physically exhausted beyond the point of even pulling out, crashed on top of Dean’s, his length still inside.

            Groaning, Dean went to push him off, but he couldn’t even muster up the force to tell him to get out and off. Hell, he couldn't even remember how this even started, although a faint pang in his belly suggested it wasn't pleasant.

            Instead, he passed out completely. Castiel tried to move to give Dean the space to breathe, but it seemed his vessel was as tired as Dean, and for the first time since he became mostly human, he slept.

            When Sam returned two hours later, they even slept through him walking inside and walking right back out to get his own motel room without saying a word.


End file.
